


...Tell Me Yours

by NorthernStar



Series: Jesse's Journey [2]
Category: Diagnosis Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernStar/pseuds/NorthernStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse feels threatened and confused by Steve’s revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...Tell Me Yours

**Author's Note:**

> The story begins about 2 weeks or so after “This Is My Truth…”

There was blood everywhere. Slicked across the ER floor, pooling on the gurney, jetting from an open artery… everywhere but where it should be, pumping through the veins of the small child Jesse was trying to save.

“Call it!”

“NO. Let’s just give her a couple more minutes.”

Hanson, one of the ER doctors, put his hand on Jesse’s arm, interfering with his attempts at CPR. “You said that ten minutes ago. Now call it, Travis or I will!”

Jesse pushed Hanson away and tore off his bloodied gloves. He looked up at the clock. “Time of death, 01:57”

The toddler’s eyes stared blankly up at him, accusing him of failing her. He wondered what her name was.

“Her parents are waiting outside.” The nurse said to Hanson.

“Great, just great.” Hanson chucked his soiled gloves into the waste and dug into his pocket. “Hey, Travis, you wanna toss for it? Heads or tails?” He said, holding out a coin.

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, too exhausted to feel anger, too empty to feel grief. “You’re sick.” He spat and pushed past him, “I’ll tell them.”

 

******

 

Half an hour later Jesse left the child’s parents sitting at her bedside, saying their final goodbye. He let his feet carry him wherever they wanted to go and found himself at the coffee machine more through luck than design.

Helping himself to a cup, Jesse leaned his head back against the wall and thought of a thousand other things he could have said to the toddler’s parents - better things, better comforts.

And he thought of a thousand reasons to just walk out of here right now, get in his car and just keep on driving. Just him and the peace of the road…No bills, no murders, no dead babies, no grief-stricken parents…no guilt…

And no Steve…

“Jess?”

He looked up. Amanda walked towards him, frowning. “I thought you left here hours ago.”

“Had a couple of emergencies. A jumper who didn’t chose a high enough building and a kid who sleep-walked her way in front of a car.” He shrugged, “you’ll be dealing with the bodies tomorrow.” Then he glanced at his watch. “Today.”

“You look exhausted, Jesse. You should go home and go to bed.”

He put his now empty cup down and rubbed his eyes. Bed was the last place he wanted to go. “Do you have any aspirin?”

Frowning, she nodded. “Yeah, in my locker.” 

“Can I…?”

“Sure.” She got up and disappeared for a minute. She returned with a packet of painkillers, which she handed to Jesse as she sat back down.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking out two pills. He tossed them to the back of his throat, swallowing them dry. They scratched slowly down his oesophagus.

She leaned forward to look him in the eyes. He shifted under her scrutiny. “It’s just a headache.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the thumping great pain in my head gave it away.” He snapped sarcastically. Then looked apologetic, “sorry.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. This isn’t like you, Jess. You’ve been tense and on edge for the last couple of weeks. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed you’re avoiding Steve!”

“I’m not, I…It really is nothing, Amanda.”

The panic on his face spoke volumes.

“I don’t understand, I thought you liked Steve. I thought you enjoyed working with him and Mark.”

“I do!”

“Then what?”

“Amanda…” he covered his face with his hands. “Its late…I’m tired….”

She nodded, “OK.”

He got up, “’night.”

“Jess?”

He turned in the doorway.

“I’m just worried about you.”

He smiled slightly then walked away.

 

******

 

Three more attacks. Three more couples hounded out of their homes, their jobs; too frightened to walk the streets because of the sickening intolerance of a violent minority.

Steve ran a hand over his eyes and tried to will away the throbbing ache in his head. Writing reports was one of the most arduous and draining aspects of being a cop, particularly when the case hit as close to home as this one did. 

The image of a certain doctor flickered through Steve’s mind - sandy spikes of hair mussed, blue eyes bright and happy. Then the face changed, became shocked and strangely scared.

Jesse Travis had been plaguing his thoughts more and more of late, his casual attraction deepening daily into something more. The realisation left him frustrated and angry. Frustration from the fruitlessness of desiring a man who would never feel the same; anger from that and at Jesse for not understanding. And at his own stupidity, for confiding in the doctor to begin with. 

Jesse still aided Mark’s investigations, but when Steve was there, they both became stilted, more afraid of how the other would react than anything else.

Devetti, one of the more annoying detectives, plonked down into Steve’s desk, interrupting his thoughts. “Hear ya been lookin’ in on that fag case Collins is handlin’.”

“If you’re talking about the harassment of citizens along the Bay area, then yes.”

Devetti snorted, “never took you for a fag sympathiser, Sloan.”

Steve glared at him. “They pay their taxes just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, so we gave ‘em Collins. I don’t understand why you’re pissin’ yourself over it.” 

“I really don’t like your attitude.”

“I’m tryin’ to do ya a favour. We got plenty enough real crime to deal with without wastin’ good man-power on a couple of slashed tires and a bit of graffiti.”

Steve got to his feet, wanting nothing more at that moment than to wipe the disgusting look from Devetti’s face.

“Steve?”

He broke his glare-off with Devetti and was surprised to see Amanda there. The pathologist rarely visited the station and then only when they were investigating a murder.

“Amanda!”

Devetti moved off, looking Amanda up and down as he passed her. She curled her nose in disgust.

“Sit down.” Steve said, indicating the chair across from his.

“Thanks. Look, Steve, I can’t stay long, I’ve got an appointment in half an hour.” 

“What can I help you with?”

“I noticed you haven’t been by the hospital much…”

Steve laughed, “nobody’s been murdered recently. I think my dad is starting to get fidgety. He told me yesterday he thought the house needed a coat of paint.”

Amanda smiled, “be glad you don’t have to work with him.”

She shifted in her chair and Steve grew serious. “But you didn’t come here to talk about dad, did you?”

“Its about Jesse.”

Amanda was shocked to see Steve flinch. “What about him?”

“He’s been working himself into the ground recently. He’s tense, angry…” She frowned. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“So?”

“So when I asked him about it, he got defensive the moment I mentioned your name.” She crossed her arms. “So now I’m asking you.”

Steve considered this for a long moment. “I’ll talk to him.”

Surprised, Amanda straightened. She hadn’t expected that to be so easy. But oddly, the victory rang hollow.

 

*****

 

The doorbell pulled him from his dreams, saving him from the faces of his childhood tormentors. Jesse let go of the pillow he was clutching, breathing heavily. His fading terror and shame mixing with his relief at being woken. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Jesse stumbled from the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans to pull on. Then he picked his way through the mess that littered his apartment towards the door. The chill of early morning air rushed in to caress his bare chest when he opened the door.

The man on his doorstep offered him a smile.

“Steve…”

“Jesse, we need to talk.”

 

*******

 

The young man looked uncomfortable but he nodded and let Steve in. 

“I guess I shoulda called first…” he said, but I didn’t want to hear you make excuses…

Jesse looked down at himself, “no, no that’s all right.” He grabbed a shirt off the sofa and slipped it on, cheeks burning.

Steve looked away, angry at the reaction.

“Coffee?” Jesse asked.

Steve nodded and followed Jesse into the little kitchen area. As the doctor got out the mugs and sugar, Steve took note of the dark shadows under Jesse’s eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He flashed suddenly on an image of himself massaging the kinks from those smooth muscles. Steve swallowed and straightened up.

“Look, Jess, I…” He stopped and sighed. The young man waited for him to go on and Steve found himself noticing how the Californian sunshine had brought out the cute freckles across his nose. “I know you’ve been avoiding me.” He finally said. 

“I’m not. I’ve just been real busy.”

“Maybe not deliberately…but I…” Steve took the coffee mug Jesse held out. “I know you’re uncomfortable being around me now. Even Amanda saw it.”

“Maybe…” A spark of anger lit his eyes. “Yes, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Does it have anything to do with what I told you?”

Jesse looked away.

“Are you angry that I didn’t tell you sooner?”

“Steve…”

“I have a right to know, Jesse. Especially if this is affecting our friendship.” His tone became increasingly angry. “Or are you just a bigot? What, you think I’m gonna come on to you?”

“Just give me some space all right!”

Steve banged his mug down on the Formica and started to leave. “Space… Fine!”

Jesse followed him, “Steve!”

The detective paused, turned.

“Look, I’ve got…I’m coming to the end of my internship. There’s a lot of stuff going on, my application for the ER… I’ve got so much to deal with…” He looked down. “It’s just a really bad time right now…”

The edge on Steve’s anger blunted. He knew that was true. But it still didn’t stop the hurt. It still wasn’t a good excuse.

He nodded, slowly. “OK.”

 

******

 

One month later…

 

The slender man in the hospital bed avoided Steve’s eyes as he spoke, his voice hushed, hands trembling. The deep cuts and dark bruises on his face stood out in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin and hair. 

The swell of anti-gay feeling along the Bay had taken a new twist. The perpetrators had crept out from the shadows and beaten a man senseless in front of his hysterical lover.

“Can you remember anything else?” Steve asked, when the man had finished his statement. “Anything that might not seem important?”

The man shook his head. “No, I…I never saw…”

Steve lay a hand on his arm. “That’s OK, we’re done.” He stood up. “Someone’ll be along later today with some mug-shots. You might recognise someone.”

The man nodded.

Mark interrupted them at that moment. He checked the IV and his patient, wrote on the notes and walked his son out. They spoke about the attack briefly and Steve knew that this case wasn’t just hitting close to home for him, but for his father too. Mark was worried and there wasn’t much either could do to change it.

Steve turned to leave, but Mark stopped him.

“You know, I asked Jesse to the Bar-B-Q Saturday.”

“Is he coming?”

Mark smiled, “Amanda twisted his arm.”

Steve felt a knot of tension that he hadn’t known he had, ease. He missed Jesse, and the ‘space’ between them had quickly begun to hurt, anger or no. 

He smiled back, “I’m glad.”

 

******

 

Jesse checked around to see if he was alone before reaching into the very back of his locker and took a packet from beneath the small pile of ‘thank you’ cards and oddments. 

Caffeine pills.

Jesse hated using them, although they had seen him and countless other students through all-night study sessions, finals and the occasional rave. 

He was so tired. He’d been dreaming again, hearing the taunts and feeling the humiliation again, as fresh as it was when he was 13. Jesse had learned, these past couple of months, that almost fifteen years meant nothing and he was still a coward. He still wanted to run and hide from those taunts, even when they were little more than figments thrown up in REM sleep.

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to dream.

So he worked, and pushed himself, and swallowed as much caffeine as he could. He would stay awake, and when he did sleep, he was so exhausted, he fell so deeply into slumber that no dream could touch him.

“Wonder if Sloan knows his little pet’s on those?”

Jesse jumped and pushed the packet back into his locker. “They’re caffeine.”

Richie Hayden leaned against the doorframe and smiled. “Having trouble keeping up with the big boys?”

Jesse slammed his locker closed. “Get out of my face, Richie.”

Hayden blocked his exit, staring down at Jesse, using his extra half-foot of height to intimidate. Then he stepped out of the way and laughed derisively.

 

*******

 

Steve knelt down beside the medic tending the bleeding youngster lying in the gutter. His ID named him as Ryan Keegan and claimed he was 21, but he looked younger than that. The woman who found him had said he was one of the youth workers who taught underprivileged kids surfing and basic lifesaving skills.

He was also openly gay and had been the target of bigoted parents who didn’t want their kids around ‘that sort,’ as if homosexuality was a disease they might catch.

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked the medic.

He cast Steve a worried look and shook his head slightly. The kid wasn’t going to make it.

Steve stood up and made his way over to the uniforms who were taking statements from passers-by. One of the cops looked up at his approach.

“What’ve we got?” He asked, jerking his head in the direction of the bleeding kid.

Steve walked past him, headed towards his car. “Homicide.” He said grimly. 

 

******

 

Mark answered the door to Amanda and her tall, skinny date in a deflated chef’s hat and an apron that claimed he was a ‘Genius at Work.’

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” Amanda said and indicated her companion. “This is Peter Solent.”

Mark held out his hand to shake and seemed surprised when he found a spatula in it. “Oh!” He changed it to his other hand and then shook Peter’s. “Nice to meet you.”

They made their way out onto the veranda where a small crowd, mostly co-workers from Community General, had gathered.

Amanda noticed the absence of a certain young doctor she’d backed into a corner until he’d promised to come. “Where’s Jesse?”

“Oh, he’s not here yet.”

And there was someone else missing too. “And Steve?”

“Steve called to say he’d be late.”

“After all the trouble we went to organising this, they’re still avoiding each other.”

Mark looked around to make sure no one had overheard that. “I’m sure they’ll both be here.”

“They’d better be or-“

Peter sniffed. “Can I smell burning?”

“Oh, my ribs!” Mark cried and hurried off in the direction of the Bar-B-Q.

Amanda dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She shot a look of apology at Peter, dialled Jesse’s number and made a noise of disgust when she got his answering machine.

“Jesse!” She snapped down the line after the beep. “Get over here now. Or the next cadaver on my slab will be yours!” And she slammed the phone shut and threw it back into her bag. Then she smiled brightly at a startled Peter, “would you be a darling and get me a glass of punch?”

He was back in double quick time.

 

*******

 

Jesse pulled a sweater over his head, but the thick fabric served only to irritate his sweaty skin and did nothing to elevate the shivery, bone-deep cold he felt. He wanted no more than to curl up in bed, pull the covers over his head and hibernate.

But he’d given Amanda his word that he would go to Mark’s Bar-B-Q and he kept his promises. In some ways he was relieved the decision had been made for him. Backing out was what his gut wanted; his mind though, wanted everything to go back to the way they were. Before Steve had told him he was…

No. He wasn’t going to think of that.

But he thought of nothing else during the drive to Malibu, and even the radio turned up full blast couldn’t drown out the taunts and cat-calls echoing in his mind.

Finally Jesse pulled up outside the Sloan’s and he sat in the car, feeling shy and ashamed. He forced himself to leave his metal haven, squinting as the bright Californian sunshine hurt his eyes.

Amanda pounced on him the moment he walked in the door. “Hey Jesse!” She looked behind him. “Where’s Lisa? I thought you were bringing her along?”

He frowned, “were you waiting by the door?”

The pathologist met his gaze without the slightest hint of guilt.

Jesse sighed. “I think I need a drink.” And he made his way out onto the veranda. Amanda followed behind him, trailing a skinny date.

Mark beat her to Jesse’s side. “Jesse, glad you could make it.” He held out a tray with various vegetable sticks and a pot of green stuff on it. “Dip?”

Jesse’s stomach protested at the sight of the food, but he chose a small piece of carrot, dipped it and forced himself to eat it. The flavour was lost to the flu, and the gritty texture made him feel quite ill. He smiled, “nice.”

Mark brightened, “really? Steve made it. He’s not here yet.”

Jesse felt a faint flash of relief and helped himself to a can of cold beer. Mark muttered something about T-bones and hurried off towards the Bar-B-Q. Jesse swigged his drink down, reached for another and dodging conversation with his co-workers, found a quiet corner of the house and sank down into a chair.

Someone brought him a glass of punch after a while, and tried to interest him in conversation, but his entire being ached so much, they soon grew bored of his company and left him alone.

Jesse knew the moment Steve arrived by the sudden change in atmosphere. It felt as if the very air around him was ionised. People were naturally drawn to Steve and his guests quickly surrounded him.

Jesse sat forward, surprising himself at the ease with which his smile had come to his face. Steve nodded once in his direction then walked straight past.

It hurt.

But Jesse knew it was no more than he deserved.

 

******

 

Steve forced himself to keep walking, past Jesse, when all he wanted to do was stop and talk and just be with him again.

His father was busily brushing marinade over the chicken breasts, although more was dripping onto the hot coals and over his own fingers than on the meat.

“Steve!”

The call stopped him half way towards Mark and he turned. Jesse was making his way through the press of people, face flushed unnaturally pink. 

Steve sighed. He really didn’t want to deal with Jesse right now. He’d just come from Ryan Keegan’s distraught parents and he’d seen enough anti-gay feeling to last the rest of his lifetime. Any more today would make him sick…especially from a friend.

“Later, Jess.” He said coldly and turned away.

 

*****

 

Jesse felt the same sharp bite of shock that comes with being slapped across the face. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and his eyes watered in terrible betrayal.

He tired to ignore the whispers of the other guests and he quickly made his way back to his chair. The someone, Cassie from Records he realised now, brought him another glass of punch before leaving him mercifully in peace.

Jesse sat drinking for a while, head resting against the curved back of the armchair. He drifted off occasionally, kept awake more by the intense discomfort in his nasal cavity and the ache in his head than by any really desire not to fall asleep.

“Jess?”

He opened his eyes. The guests had thinned out considerable and the sky outside had darkened with approaching night. 

His name was called again and he moved his head to focus on the speaker. “Steve?”

“I know dad’s party’s can get boring, but I think that’s the first time someone’s actually fallen asleep during one.” The detective said smiling.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Unn…sorry…” 

Steve frowned, “Jesse?” He reached out to steady the doctor. “My God, you’re burning up.”

Steve stood up and called to Amanda.

“It’s just flu.” 

“Are you sure? Didn’t you get a shot?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m a doctor, remember?” Jesse’s head flopped back. “And I don’t get flu shots because I react badly.”

Amanda and his father reached them at that moment. “He’s sick.” Steve told them.

Mark checked Jesse over, feeling his forehead and taking his pulse. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked Jesse.

The young doctor blushed. “‘Cause I didn’t want to be Amanda’s next cadaver.”

Everyone looked at the pathologist. 

“I’ll take him home,” she said, ignoring their looks.

“No, he can stay here.” Mark said, “I don’t like the idea of him being alone with his temperature so high.” He gestured to his son, “Steve, help me get him into the guest room.”

They got Jesse to his feet and led him away. 

 

*****

 

When Steve and Mark got to the guestroom, they sat their patient on the large bed. Mark clucked around him, pumping pillows and producing a digital thermometer from the bedside cabinet. He jabbed it at Jesse’s face.

“Mark, I’m fine.” Jesse told him, looking anything but fine. Mark used the opportunity to pop the thermometer under Jesse’s tongue.

“No, you’re not.” Mark replied. “Steve, his shoes…”

Steve knelt at Jesse’s feet and pulled his shoes off, then his socks. Skin brushed against skin and Jesse’s toes curled in surprise.

“Hey.” He mumbled around the tube in his mouth.

“And take that sweater off too.” Mark commented and pulled the thermometer from Jesse’s lips.

Jesse frowned, but after a moment pulled his top off over his head. Cool air caressed his heated flesh and he shivered. 

“102…” Mark murmured, getting up. “I’ll get a cold compress.”

He disappeared into the en suite bathroom. Jesse flopped back on the bed as a wave of exhaustion washed over him and his eyes automatically closed.

Steve leaned over the feverish doctor. “Jess, your jeans oughta come off before you sleep.”

Jesse muttered something in return and began fumbling with his button fly without opening his eyes. Steve watched his weak attempts for a moment before he reached out. “Here…”

Jesse wiggled back across the bed, his eyes unnaturally bright with fever and fear. “I’m not gay! I’m not gay!”

Steve got to his feet angrily, but Mark arrived before he could put that anger into words.

“I doubt he knows what he’s saying.” He said quickly, placing a bowl of cold water by the bed and dipping a soft cloth in to it. 

Concern overrode his anger, “is he in any danger?”

Mark shook his head as he lay the cloth on Jesse’s brow. “No, but we need to get his fever down.” He touched Jesse’s arm. “Jess? You know you need to wear as little as possible.”

He nodded vaguely and this time offered no resistance to Steve’s gentle removal of his jeans. They manoeuvred him into the centre and Mark stripped all but a thin sheet from the bed to cover Jesse with.

The young doctor was asleep in seconds. Steve settled beside him, taking the cloth from his brow and cooling it again in the bowl of water.

Mark looked at his son; “you’ll be all right for a while?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be back soon.” 

 

*******

 

Jesse awoke halfway through the night, twisting in the sheets, cheeks flushed bright with fever. Steve sat up in alarm, startled by the sudden thrashing and moaning. He leaned over Jesse and called his name. The doctor began muttering, but not in reply to Steve. The detective doubted Jesse knew he was there.

“I’m not gay…” He hissed, “…not…”

Steve felt his chest constrict at the half-heard words. He reached out to wipe Jesse’s brow with the cool damp cloth, ignoring his own hurt. “I know you’re not, Jesse…” But he knew Jesse wasn’t awake enough to hear him.

“Wasn’t me.” Jesse insisted, “Mickey said it was me…it wasn’t me.”

“Jess?” Steve lay a hand on Jesse’s arm. The touch roused him and his eyes flickered open. “Jesse? Who’s Mickey?”

The doctor eyes focused on him - awake now. “My friend.” He said, frowning at something – a memory, or maybe a dream. “He kissed me…”

Steve felt a shock run through him at the admission.

“…But they saw us. So he said it was me.” Tears welled in his eyes. Steve desperately wanted to ask for more, but forced himself to stay silent. The confession cost Jesse enough pain without his curiosity adding to it. “They called me gay, every day…but I wasn’t…I’m not.”

Tired half sobs wracked Jesse’s narrow chest and Steve immediately reached out to him. “Shh…Jesse. It’s OK.” He whispered. He understood now, at least some of it, and he felt anger he didn’t know he had, ease. “We’re OK…”

Jesse smiled and his eyes slowly closed. Steve watched him drift back off to sleep, straining to hear his last words. “I didn’t mean to enjoy it….”

 

*******

 

“How are you feeling?”

Jesse sat up in bed and looked over Steve as he entered the guestroom, bearing a tray. “OK.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, and he suspected that his pasty, sweaty face gave it away but Steve was diplomatic enough to take the statement at face value.

Steve put the tray down beside Jesse and he saw it held a bowl of cornflakes, milk, orange juice and a small pot of strawberries. He smiled, “I should stay here more often.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Steve said. “Because dad won’t let leave until he’s decides you’re well enough.” 

Jesse picked at a strawberry, wishing he felt hungry enough to eat it. And wishing he could really remember what he had said last night, or if it had all been a dream. The short silence must have weighed on the detective because he turned to go.

“Steve?”

The detective paused.

“What I said…last night…” He wanted his tangled memory confirmed.

“It stays between us.” Steve assured him and Jesse was surprised just how faint the flash of horror and shame at Steve knowing his deepest secret was.

“I should…explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He looked down, swallowing. “Just…not now.”

Steve smiled and turned to leave again.

“Steve?”

Another smile, wider this time. “Yeah?”

“What you said…about us. Being OK…”

Wider still. “We are.”

And this time, shyly, Jesse returned the smile.

 

~~END~~


End file.
